


desirable

by crusades



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction, niall horan - Fandom
Genre: Conflict, Gay, Love, M/M, Sex, Ship, mature - Freeform, maturecontent, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crusades/pseuds/crusades
Summary: As they left the nurse's room together, Niall looked up at Harry quizzically, and Harry took a deep breath. "Would you, maybe, wanna go out with me some time? I mean, if you're into that, I guess I'm just assuming you are-""-Harry! I am into that. And into you. So, yeah. I'd love to go on a date with you. In fact I've been wanting to ask you the same thing for weeks. Your friend kinda put me off." Niall huffed nervously, his gaze shifting to the floor. Harry couldn't believe his luck, or could he? The chirpy little brunet with the dazzling eyes fancied him too. It made his heart beat louder in his ears.where niall and harry meet in the most conventional, cliche way possiblemature (and fluffy) narry content© crusades, 2018





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for taking the time to read my book, i hope you enjoy! due to a busy schedule, updates may be inconsistent, but i’m trying my best :)

THE RICOCHETING PUNCHBAG slammed backwards into Harry's clenched, gloved fist, sending a shockwave that rippled all the way up his muscular arm and ordered beads of perspiration to escape from his glistening skin and onto the mat beneath his feet. Harry laid into the bag, delivering shot after shot, each collision creating a deafening echo that ceased to exist almost as soon as it had been birthed.

His concentration was absolute, his eyes never swaying from his faded blue target, examining the years of scuffs and damage, tracing the tattered material of the bag with his glare. From behind him, his gym partner, Liam, watched on in awe. Each repetitive motion was always a significant growth for Harry. Since day one, his motivation to get fit had outlived his motivation to sit on his arse and do nothing with his life.

"Harry! It's time to go." Liam called out, glancing at his wristwatch. Harry pulled away from the punching bag and heaved a heavy sigh. Another successful gym session. He found as he stepped out of his pool of sweat on the mat that he was being stared at. Most eyes were often on Harry when he was in the gym, his chiseled good looks and often brooding expression made him an Edward Cullen type character, a man other men secretly aspired to be and a man women secretly aspired to be with.

The shower room was scattered with other random gym-goers, towelling off after a heavy session or just packing on their gear and preparing for one. Closely followed by Liam, Harry approached his locker and opened it, taking out a black face towel that he'd brought along with him and wiping the sweat from his face in one swoop. "A big improvement this week, Harold. This is the longest you've ever lasted on the bag without a rest break. Keep going like this and you could probably do professional boxing." Liam sat on the floor by Harry's legs, typing away on his phone and chatting to Harry simultaneously.

Harry scoffed. "Professional boxing? I'm happy with the gig I have now, Liam." He shut his locker loudly and headed for an empty shower cubicle, leaving Liam on the ground. "Whatever you say, Harry." He muttered, as he watched Harry disappear behind a row of lockers.

Pulling on a fresh white t-shirt after a gym session felt like, to Harry, taking a breath of the freshest and most cleanest air he'd ever breathed. His sweaty gym-wear sat forlorn in his shoulder bag, along with his phone, car keys and towel. 

Liam approached him from behind and lightly tapped his shoulder, causing Harry to jolt and spin around quickly. "Ready to go, Har?" he announced, with a slight chuckle. "Yeah, I just– I can't find my waterbottle. I think I left it in the training room. I'll only be a mo." Harry quickly left the changing rooms and headed towards the punching bags.

He spotted his waterbottle on its side on a training mat, and blindly stalked towards it to retrieve his bottle before it was thrown into lost and found. He was so focused on his bottle however, that he didn't notice the young man sprinting towards him until he'd been knocked to the floor with a groan. The whole gym stopped to look at the commotion, as the two lads fumbled to get back to their feet.

"S-sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going, I-" Harry stared up at the man who'd knocked him over. He had soft brunette hair, which extended into a stubbly beard that dominated the lower part of his face. His soft blue eyes were filled with panic and worry as he grabbed Harry's hand to help him from the ground. "–I really didn't mean to knock you over. Sorry." Harry smiled at him softly. "That's alright. No worries. What were you running for?"

"I forgot my waterbottle in my car." Harry laughed. "What's so funny?" The lad asked. "I forgot my waterbottle, too. That's why I was here. I came to pick it up before I left."

"Oh." His blue eyes crinkled into a smile as he stared up at Harry now, and he giggled softly. "Small world." Harry noticed that his accent was distinctly Irish, very thick and very hard to miss. "You're from Ireland?" He asked now, his curiousity banishing his earlier embarrassment. "Yeah. Southern. A place called Mullingar. I came here to study, though." The Irish lad reached behind his head to scratch the back of his neck.

Somewhere in the background, Harry heard his name being called, and turned to find Liam standing at the doorway of the training room, carrying both his own bags and Harry's. He gave Harry a sort of raised eyebrows look that said, "What's the hold up?" and Harry held up a hand to signal for him to wait.

"I better be off. Liam's waiting." Harry spoke as he turned back to the Irish lad, who looked up into his face carefully. "But uh, before we both retrieve our bottles, what's your name?"

"Niall. My name's Niall."

"I'm Harry." Harry extended an arm and they shook hands vigorously, cementing what was about to become. "Nice to meet you, Niall."

"And you, Harry. I'll see ya around, yeah?" Niall walked quietly away from Harry, and as they parted ways, Harry could only think about the way that Niall stared up at him. Almost with pride.

It made Harry feel very good indeed.

* * *

Harry had become used to running into Niall at the gym. Not literally running into him, like their first encounter, of course. But every wednesday afternoon, around 3p.m., Harry expected Niall's cheerful giggle to waft through the gym as he entered with a friend, throwing Harry a friendly wave or sneaking in a cheeky wink. Sometimes he came alone, and those were the days that Harry saw as an opportunity to speak to him.

Liam was not a fan of this. Harry stopping every few minutes to throw a conversation starter Niall's way, and Niall quipping something back, a game of word tennis that caused both boys to forget their real purpose for being at the gym: to work out. Harry's improvements saw a quick decline, but he forgot all about it when Niall was in his peripheral vision.

"Harry!" Liam would yell, irritated, whenever he became distracted. Harry would scowl in Liam's direction. They did not have the same future for him in mind.

One particularly cold Wednesday afternoon, however, Niall hadn't turned up, and Harry felt slightly forlorn as he stared about the gym, his anxiety building as the clock ticked closer to the end of his session. Liam was typing a message into his phone, his thumbs angrily stabbing at his screen as his eyebrows furrowed deep in thought.

Harry tried to concentrate on the punching bag again, trying to remember each distinct feeling of the bag's force ricocheting back into his arms as he punched at it, the way each knock caused it to swing wildly back and forth. The sweat poured from his hairline, each punch developing more power as it hit its desired target, until the muscles in Harry's arms seethed with pain. Liam, glancing up from his phone, called out at Harry, breaking him from his intense punching session, "Harry! Harry! Stop that! You're gonna do some damage to your muscles." 

Liam jumped forward, placing one hand on Harry's sweaty bicep and giving it a light squeeze which caused Harry to wince loudly. "You've probably torn something, you twat. What were you playing at, punching the bag practically to death?"

Harry looked at Liam with slight annoyance. "I- Nothing. I don't know." He sighed, defeatedly, and quickly glanced around the gym again. "Come on, I'm sure this gym has a nurse on hand." Liam carefully took hold of Harry's lower arm and guided him towards the front desk to see the nurse. Harry's eyes zoomed back and forth as they walked, keeping them peeled for Niall's arrival. 

The man behind the front desk pointed them to a closed door and told them to knock on it for assistance. There, the door opened to reveal a man, somewhere in his 30s, who looked from Harry to Liam and back again with a slight degree of superiority.

"Who's injured?" He asked, calmly. Harry raised his lower arm, pain creeping in. "Come on in, then, lad, let's get you fixed up."

The inside of the nurse's room felt cramped and claustrophobic, but that was probably due to the excessive amount of medical supplies, packed almost to the ceiling in stacks and boxes. Harry sat down calmly on the bed and Liam stood in the corner of the room, sighing loudly and muttering something about Harry's performance. Harry wished he had a trainer who cared less.

"Alright, hold your hand out flat." The nurse instructed, and Harry obliged, holding his fingers outstretched. "Now turn it around the other way, feel anything?" As Harry followed through, the searing pain that coursed through his upper arm caused him to curse through gritted teeth. "Yeah, looks like you've damaged your shoulder tendon in your bicep. There's not much you can do about that except take a couple paracetamol for the pain and rest."

Liam went to say something, probably to berate Harry about how shockingly bad his performance would be after he's had a couple weeks rest, when he was interrupted by a knock at the door, to which the nurse uttered a "come in". Harry's face lit up with immense joy when Niall stumbled in, his knee dripping blood. "Uh, I fell over in the parking lot." He admitted sheepishly, causing Harry to grin even wider.

Liam rolled his eyes, and the nurse leaned closer to inspect the gash. "You've scraped it pretty deep, mate, but nothing a plaster can't fix." They smiled at each other with amusement before the nurse went hunting for his plasters, and Niall carefully took a seat next to Harry on the bed. "What're you in for?" He asked him quietly, and Harry replied, "Torn tendon."

"Ouch." Niall responded. Harry nodded knowingly. Although they'd both mangled themselves, their faces were etched with happiness and amusement at the sight of each other. Harry got a burning feeling in his stomach when he spoke to Niall, like he'd swallowed the whole sun. Niall felt almost the same, and he allowed this moment of closeness to inspect Harry's face intently, noticing the dimples carved into his cheeks and the specks of brown in his green eyes.

The nurse broke their moment by producing a Dora The Explorer plaster, exclaiming, "Sorry, I've ran out of the plain brown ones." Niall chuckled as he tore open the plaster and stuck it over his grazed skin, staring down contentedly at the cheerful pattern of Dora's waving enthusiastically back at him.

"It'll have to do. Thanks, Doc." Niall shook his hand gregariously, as if this nurse had just saved his life rather than cover a small boo-boo on his knee from an embarrassing incident. Harry giggled quietly to himself, he couldn't deny how he felt about Niall when he was around, his clear blue eyes and his wide smile, Harry's little tummy gurgled with happiness at the thought, nevermind the sight, of Niall.

Niall turned to exit the nurse's room, giving Harry a cheerful little wave as he turned, but Harry jumped down from the bed and toward him, mustering up all his courage as he asked if they could have a moment alone. Behind him, he heard Liam groan in dismay, but Harry didn't let that put him off.

As they left the nurse's room together, Niall looked up at Harry quizzically, and Harry took a deep breath. "Would you, maybe, wanna go out with me some time? I mean, if you're into that, I guess I'm just assuming you are-"

"-Harry! I am into that. And into you. So, yeah. I'd love to go on a date with you. In fact I've been wanting to ask you the same thing for weeks. Your friend kinda put me off." Niall huffed nervously, his gaze shifting to the floor. Harry couldn't believe his luck, or could he? The chirpy little brunet with the dazzling eyes fancied him too. It made his heart beat louder in his ears.

"Liam? Yeah. Don't tell him I told you this, but he can be a real asshole sometimes." This made Niall giggle, a noise that Harry wanted to make an album of, and listen to all day.

"So, do you want my number or not?" Niall asked, almost impatiently.

"Of course, Irish. And how's Saturday for you?"

"I'm free to make your acquaintance, Harold."

The two boys smiled at each other. "I'll see you then?" Niall asked.

"Not if I don't run into you beforehand, Niall.”


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi sorry for the wait! if you celebrate it, i hope you have a merry christmas! if not, happy holidays! this chapter is just a kind of filler before the real stuff begins so it isnt as long as the first one. enjoy!

IT HAD BEEN two months since their first date, and to say things were moving quickly would be the understatement of the century. Much to the annoyance of Liam, Harry started skipping gym frequently to go to Niall's poky little dorm instead, where the two boys would watch movies, listen to music and play games. Harry's once toned abs became softened with added weight, but he didn't mind. His rigorous boxing schedule brought him no enjoyment anymore, and every angry text he received from Liam about another skipped session was always rapidly deleted.

Niall's soft chuckles and cheerful grins occupied Harry's every waking thoughts, distracting him not only from his hobbies but from work too. He'd sit at his desk hopelessly staring off into the distance until his vision blurred, only to be snapped out of it by his co-worker, Zayn, chucking a scrumpled piece of paper at his head or slamming his palm down on the desk. "Harold?" He'd coo in a sing-song tone. "Hello? Is anyone home?" then he'd laugh and stumble off back to his own desk, Harry following him with an annoyed glare on his face. He counted down every ticking of the clock until his eight hour shift was up and he could finally have his sweet release, an evening with his boyfriend.

Niall was in a band in his spare time. He sung and played guitar and piano. Some nights, he and Harry would sit in front of his keyboard and Niall would play some of his favourite artists, like Fleetwood Mac or The Eagles. Harry would nuzzle into Niall's warm neck, listening to the soft melodies of old rock songs as Niall's fingers effortlessly stroked the keys. Niall would pause just to plant a kiss onto Harry's forehead, causing him to giggle.

On one of these nights, it was particularly rainy outside. The boys were lying on Niall's sofa watching reruns of some old TV show from decades previous. The only light was the soft yellow glow from Niall's lamp, which illuminated his hand as it stroked Harry's cheek gently. "Why have I never been to yours, Haz?" He asked offhandedly. Harry froze. How could he tell him of his fear? It would make Niall feel terrible.

The truth was, Harry hadn't told anyone in his life that he was gay apart from a very small number of people, such as Liam. His coworkers didn't know. Not even his mother knew, though she often dropped hints that she had an inkling every time he visited. Still, Harry was much too afraid to "come out", he'd read horror stories of gay couples being attacked just for walking down the street holding hands. He knew his neighbours would talk if he started bringing Niall around.

His heart started thumping and he sat up, feeling nauseous. "Well, I'm just getting the place decorated." He lied.

"Oh? You never told me this." Niall replied, his face scrunching up with confusion.

"Y-Yeah I mean, would you want to know? It's kinda boring. Just painting some walls and stuff. It'll still take another few weeks to be completed..." He trailed off, wanting to be vague. Anything too specific could throw off his lies.

"A few weeks? How big is your flat?" Niall laughed now, sitting up and grabbing Harry around the waist to pull him in for a cuddle. "Oh it's just with the multiple coats and stuff, you know?" Harry fumbled. He'd never changed a thing about his pre-furbished flat from the moment he'd moved in 3 years ago. How can he tell him the truth without hurting his feelings?

"OK, well tell your decorators to hurry it up. I wanna see how my other half lives, please." Niall gently pressed a kiss to the side of Harry's temple, nuzzling his curly hair with his nose. Harry let out a sigh. He'd bought it. For now.

 

***

"Hey Harold, have you got those reports ready? I need them for the next board meeting." Harry's boss, Roger, a greasy, balding and overweight man in his early 50s, was leaning on Harry's desk as he spoke, standing so close that Harry could smell the ten cigarettes he'd already smoked that day. 

Not only did he hate the fact that he called him 'Harold' when he'd protested multiple times that it's just 'Harry', but Roger wasn't exactly the kindest boss. He was known to steal your lunch from the staff room fridge if you didn't label it, and he very rarely dealt out any positive feedback for anyone. He never puts money in for office parties or buys a present for his Secret Santa, he wouldn't even give one of Harry's coworkers, Susanne, a day off for her dad's funeral. Harry and Zayn would make eye contact and scoff at each other every time he strolled into the room.

"Yes, Roger, they're all in this file." Harry holds out a cream coloured file, filled with weeks and weeks of work that he'd completed. Rather than saying thank you or good work, Roger snatched the file out of Harry’s hand and walked back to his office without another word. Harry had become used to his rudeness. He turned to look up at the clock, and counted down how many hours he had left until he could see Niall again. Three hours.

“Hey, clock-watcher, what’s with this new habit of yours?” Zayn asked, tucking into the dinner he’d brought in. Harry sighed and turned back around in his chair. “What do you mean?” Harry responded.

“Well, I can’t help but notice that you’ve started to check the clock more than ever. I know this job is mediocre but do you really hate it that much?” Zayn chuckled. This desk job was just a starting point for Harry. It was the catalyst for his future career. He reminded himself every day of the luxuries he’d have when he made his way up the business ladder.

“No I’m just... seeing someone tonight. Someone important.” Harry replied carefully. He couldn’t give up too much information about Niall. He didn’t plan on hanging around this office forever, so why let the whole place know he was gay? “Ooo, a date? Who’s the lucky lady?” Zayn had put his lunch to one side, his full attention on Harry.

“No one you’d know, that’s all I’m saying.” 

“Ouch, that was cold. What’s with the secrecy? Is she your cousin or something?” Zayn laughed loudly causing several people to turn away from their desks and observe the commotion. Harry sighed and began typing away on his computer. “Nope. It’s just none of your business, mate.” He responded quietly. His tone made it clear that he wanted to drop the subject, and Zayn gave him an odd look before turning back to his own desk in silence.

Niall was Harry’s secret, and he wasn’t ready to share him just yet.


End file.
